CHAPTER III
THE VOICE
"BUT, Frieda, how could you possibly have arranged to arrive in themiddle of the night like this?"
Jack had reached the waiting taxicab, which stood transfixed in themiddle of the road and had pulled open the door of the vehicle, only tofind her sister sitting inside, almost completely enveloped in steamerblankets and bags and boxes.
"The cab broke down," Frieda remarked plaintively, evidently attemptingto explain last conditions first. It seemed not to have occurred to herthat even in the event of this difficulty, she could have gotten out andwalked up to the house. But it was eminently characteristic of Friedasimply to sit still and call for her sister, as she always had done inany emergency when they were both girls.
The next moment Lady Kent, with the assistance of the driver, had helpedher visitor to alight. If Olive and the butler had not arrived justthen, she might again have forgotten her dignity and begun dragging outFrieda's bags. But instead, she and Olive, escorted Frieda up theavenue, leaving the two men to bring her possessions.
"I was lonely after Olive left me in New York," Frieda explained. "Sowhen I read in the paper one morning that a particularly comfortablesteamer was sailing, I decided not to wait an entire week, if I couldget a nice stateroom. I thought Olive would not need but a few days totell you. You have told, haven't you, Olive?" Frieda demanded, with aslight change of tone.
When Olive answered "yes," briefly, she went on:
"Please don't ask me any questions tonight, Jack. I'm most dead. No; Ididn't have a rough crossing, but I have never arrived anywhere alonebefore in my whole life. I knew I could call up Frank at his club inLondon, but I did not wish to see him first. Still, I don't care what hethinks, since I have lost all faith in men. But I don't see why some onedid not meet me at the station here. I telegraphed from Liverpool that Iwas on the way."
Jack shook her head.
"Curious dear, but we never received your telegram."
"Oh, well;" Frieda added more indulgently, "I didn't exactly telegraphmyself, but I gave the money to a boy and told him what to say. Perhapshe made a mistake, or kept the money, or something," she endednonchalantly. For they were now entering the great hall at Kent Houseand Frieda realized that she did not care very much for small things, sograteful was she to be again with her sister.
Impulsively she turned and embraced her.
Perhaps it was because Frieda was tired, but Jack could see that she wasnot so unaffected by what she had been passing through as Olive hadimagined.
It is true Frieda looked as much like an exquisite wax doll as ever. Hereyes were as large and delicately blue, and her hair was a mass of softyellow curls; yet there was a subtle change in her expression.
Olive had led the way into the library.
"We won't talk about anything until you like, Frieda," Jack whispered.
"Will you go up to your rooms now or have something to eat first downhere with Olive and me?" she asked.
Frieda permitted Olive and Jack to remove her coat and hat. A fewmoments later, however, she announced that she preferred going upstairsto bed. So Jack finally bade her goodnight, after arranging that she wasto ring her bell for breakfast, when she wished it the next morning.
When Frieda rang for breakfast it was nearly eleven o'clock and Jackwent into her room with the maid who carried the tray.
Frieda ate her morning repast languidly, while her sister sat beside hertalking of trivial things.
"Where is Olive?" Frieda inquired finally. And when informed that Olivewas in the nursery with the children, protested: "I suppose you know Iam jealous of your baby's being named for Olive. Of course I know youand she are very dear friends; but, after all, I am your sister."
"I felt that way about it too, Frieda, but Frank seemed not to wish aGerman name," Jack answered, "and Vive has her own name now anyhow.Maybe the next time."
Frieda frowned. "Don't talk of next time, Jack. I can't imagine yourhaving a family. I hate being married." And without any other warningtwo large tears rolled down Frieda's cheeks.
"I'd rather tell you what has happened between Henry and me this minuteand get through with it. And I'd prefer to tell you without Olive'shearing. I don't mean to be impolite, but Olive is almost an old maidand old maids always take the man's part."
In spite of her anxiety Jack was compelled to laugh. Frieda had alwaysbeen such a funny mixture of babyishness and worldly wisdom.
She was now sitting up in bed with a number of white pillows piledbehind her and wearing a light blue cashmere jacket over her gown. TheEnglish air was cooler than that to which she was accustomed.
"I hope nothing very serious, Frieda?"
"Nevertheless it is so serious that I never intend to speak to HenryRussell again, if I can avoid it. You see," Frieda sighed, "I suppose itis better to begin at the beginning and tell the whole thing. But, then,who knows when anything actually begins? At any rate during the firsttwo years after Henry and I were married you remember we lived withHenry's parents. They were awfully nice to me and gave me hundreds ofpresents, but after awhile I became tired of living in another's house.Oh, the house was big and I had plenty of rooms, but you know it isn'tlike having a home of one's own is it, Jack?"
After waiting for her sister to nod agreement, Frieda went on.
"So I told Henry I wanted a house to myself, and I must say he and hismother and father were very nice about it--at first." Frieda made adramatic pause.
"It was Henry's fault all through though. You know he is the only childand his mother and father are dreadfully rich. But what do you supposeHenry decided? When we went to housekeeping for ourselves we were tolive on the income he made as a Professor! Did you ever hear of anythingso selfish?"
"Well dear," Jack hesitated "maybe in a way it was selfish, because ofcourse Henry's father and mother must have been disappointed not to beable to do for you. But, after all, it was self respecting of Henry. Isuppose a man--especially an American one--likes to feel that he is ableto be responsible for his own family."
"That is exactly what Ruth and Jim Colter wrote me," Frieda protestedindignantly. "I suppose it never occurs to any one of you to think ofme!"
"Yes, but you have your own income from our estate, Frieda," Jack addedquickly, not wishing to offend her sister at the beginning of herconfidence.
"I know," Frieda continued more amiably. "So, at first, when I saw howmuch Henry's heart was set on our being independent, I agreed to try.But you know, Jack, I never have had much experience in managing money,and even when we were at school at Primrose Hall I got into debt. So,although Henry told me just what we had to live upon, I couldn't seem tomake things come out even. Then, as I didn't want to worry him, I keptusing my own income till that gave out. And then--"
"Then what?" Jack inquired anxiously. Really she had been right indisapproving of Frieda's marrying so young. And more important thanFrieda's youth was the fact that she, and all the people who had everhad anything to do with Frieda, had never treated her as a responsiblehuman being. In her entire life she had never had any real care, or anyreal demand made upon her. Jack felt deeply uneasy. But whatever hadhappened, whatever might happen in the future, Frieda was her ownadored small sister, and she intended to stand by her.
"Oh nothing much," Frieda conceded, although her voice was less selfassured, "only I told Henry's father. He used to be very fond of mebefore I left Henry; I don't know how he feels now," she murmured. "Ibelieve he thought I was some kind of a joke, for he gave me a lot ofmoney and told me not to worry. But he told Henry's mother and she didnot think it was fair to Henry and must have let him know. Anyhow he wasdreadfully angry and unkind to me."
"How unkind?" Jack demanded. For, of course, the fear that ProfessorRussell had been unkind to Frieda had been always at the back of hermind, since learning of her sister's unhappiness. However, when sherecalled the Professor's shyness and gentleness, it was difficult toimagine him in the role of a brute. But Jack had learned en
ough of lifenot always to trust to exteriors.
"Oh, nothing very dreadful I suppose," Frieda conceded. "Henry fussed alot and said I had not been fair to him and that it wasn't honest tokeep things from him. He was always saying that I was very young andthat I ought to confide everything in him."
"Was there anything else, dear?" Jack inquired gently.
Frieda nodded. "Yes. Oh, well, I might as well tell you the whole storysince I have started. I was getting on a little better with the house,and Henry obtained some extra work to do, so that he made more money.But it kept him at home more in the evenings and besides he never didlike to go out a great deal. He used to go sometimes because I liked it,but I never felt he was enjoying himself, and Henry never would learn todance."
This struck Jack as a perfectly absurd reason for a vital differencebetween a husband and wife, yet she dared not smile, nor did she wish tosmile, seeing how important this really appeared to Frieda.
But Frieda must have understood something of what was passing in hersister's mind, for she said:
"I know that may sound ridiculous to you, Jack, but it has made a lot ofdifference to me." There was a choking note in Frieda's voice. "A lot ofour trouble has come from it. You know I dearly love to dance, so I usedto go out in the afternoons as I didn't like staying at home by myselfand did not want to trouble Henry to take me often."
"Not by yourself?"
"Certainly not," Frieda returned pettishly, "one can't very well dancealone."
"With any particular person?"
For a moment Jack held her breath.
At first Frieda shook her head. Afterwards she contradicted herself andnodded.
"There were three or four persons--young fellows--some of them studentsat the University, and most of the time other girls, too. At first Henrydid not mind. Then he said people were beginning to talk and there wasone person I liked especially, because he danced better than any oneelse, whom Henry said I could not go with at all. But I did go. Then Itold Henry I was bored anyhow and wanted to be free. He was verydisagreeable. So I ran away and just left a note. But I haven't beenvery happy for a long time, Jack, darling. I suppose you were right whenyou said I ought not to have married so young. Perhaps I am spoiled andselfish. Henry says I am, but some people like me anyhow."
Jack leaned over and took Frieda's chin in one of her firm white hands.
"There isn't anybody else, is there little, sister?" she demanded.
Returning her gaze straightforwardly, Frieda answered severely.
"Certainly not, Jack; what do you think of me? Don't you know I ammarried. I told you I didn't like men any more, and never intend to haveanything to do with them again."
"Then I'll leave you now, dear, and send one of the maids to help youdress, if you like," Jack answered. "Let's don't talk any more today onthis subject and please don't worry. You have lost all your color shutup by yourself in that wretched New York hotel. Hurry and come out inthe garden with Olive and the babies and me."
But when Jack had left her sister, she did not dismiss the thought oftheir conversation so lightly as her words implied. Perhaps Frieda hadnot made out a very good case for herself against her husband. It lookedas if Professor Russell must have a story to tell as well. But the mainfact appeared that Frieda was not happy in her marriage. Whatever thereasons, or whoever was at fault, it was the _thing_ itself whichworried Jack. It was plain enough that Professor Russell was too oldfor Frieda, and that his scholarly tastes were not suited to her girlishones.
"A Professor of Dead Languages married to Frieda!" Jack whispered,blaming herself once again for allowing the marriage. Well, nothingcould be decided for the present at any rate. One must wait for at leasta little more light!
Out in the garden Jack and Olive and Frieda played all morning withJack's two babies. Jimmie was a little fair haired, blue eyed, rosecheeked English boy. Vive was a different kind of baby; she had lightyellow hair, and dark eyes unlike either Jack's or Frank's. Perhaps shewas going to resemble the lovely old time portrait in the library.
Frieda spent several hours with Vive in her arms, although she never hadbeen particularly interested in any baby before.
When lunch was over, Jack said unexpectedly:
"I hope you'll forgive me, Frieda, if I leave you and Olive for a littlewhile. I promised a friend, Captain MacDonnell, to ride with him thisafternoon before I dreamed you were coming, and I have forgotten to lethim know. Besides," Jack added, since never even in small matters couldshe be dishonest, "I really want the ride. Captain MacDonnell is theone person who likes to ride as hard as I do. Oh, of course, Englishwomen ride marvelously well--far better than I, and there is nothingthey won't attempt in hunting. But what I like now and then is just astraight cross country ride--as near like the old rides across theprairies as I can manage, though I must say this country does not lookmuch like the prairies," Jack ended, as she glanced smiling out thewindow at her own beautiful, well kept English lawn. "Wait, Frieda, andmeet Bryan won't you? he is one of Frank's and my dearest friends."
So Olive and Frieda were standing together on the veranda at the side ofKent House when Jack and Captain MacDonnell finally rode off,accompanied by a groom.
"I declare Jack looks better on horseback than any one in the world,"Frieda announced admiringly. "Her costume is more stylish than the oldkhaki or corduroy things she used to wear at the ranch, but I don'tthink Jack herself is very much changed, except that she is moreattractive."
At this instant Jack turned to wave her riding whip back at her sisterand friend. She had on a perfect fitting tan cloth habit with a longEnglish coat and short trousers and high riding boots. Her yellow brownhair was braided low on her neck and she wore a small derby.
"Captain MacDonnell is handsome too, isn't he?" Frieda remarkedreflectively, before moving to go indoors. "I wonder if he and Jack arevery intimate and if Frank minds her riding with him like this? Isuppose not, or Jack wouldn't," she acknowledged.
Then she turned to Olive. "Don't look so cross, for goodness sake,Olive. I am not criticizing Jack. I don't suppose you imagine she is anymore perfect than I do, only I was just thinking how you and the entirefamily will probably blame me for doing pretty much the same kind ofthing that Jack is doing. Of course, I don't think there is anythingwrong in it. It is absurd and horrid of people to believe there is."
Olive was about to reply, but before she could speak, Frieda interruptedher.
"Oh, I know exactly what you are going to say, Olive. Jack and I arevery different persons! I know that as well as you do. I know, too, thatJack would never do anything except what was right. She could not if shetried. But she might do something silly. I don't suppose there is anyhuman being in the world who fails to be foolish at one time or other inthis life," Frieda concluded.
The Ranch Girls and Their Great Adventure Page 3